LA VOYAGE DANS LA LUNE \ howlingstar

[BERRYHEART]

Berryheart did not lie. No matter how much he wanted to see his mother, he was recommended to stay away from the sick, and thus would obey- would obey until his honey-supply ran low, and the hazily familiar marshland wouldn't yield any prizes. A sigh had puffed past crooked fangs that morning, a wistful and unwilling sound, when he realised he would have to see it within the walls of his friend's den.

Silver linings frayed the edges of the predicament- he would get a glance over of his patients. Any onlookers who cast disdainful eyes his way as he walked would earn an unreadable glimpse, and nothing else. They were ignorant if they thought he would hurt them. The moment he had pledged himself to healing, he had stuffed his warrior life into a dormant crevice, and did not miss it very much.

Her ribs rose and fell lazily, as if her breath was being smothered by fog. The glassiness of her eyes was terrible- no longer idyllic green, but a dull olive to match his own, faded with the ebb of her soul. Her heartbeat, its song to the stars, Berryheart could almost hear. Forgetting the honey, he padded with soft steps to her side, lifting a white-toed paw to rest upon her shoulder. "You're getting worse," he told her, his voice as matter-of-fact as ever. Raw emotion struggled through, thickening his tone with realisation. If the lungwort did not arrive, he would watch her soul bleed to the stars once again.

Or... Pebbles would watch. Maybe he had been lying about the honey, a little bit... about its urgency. It could have waited, but... this could not have.

\ @HOWLINGSTAR ​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​

 

[HOWLINGSTAR]

Her laborious breaths continue to fight for every inhale, every exhale. She is thinner than she had been before, for not only is prey scarcer than ever with five clans living in the marshes, but she has no appetite for any fresh-kill that is caught. Her throat feels like the bark a great oak tree; dry, scratchy, painful. She swallows weakly, an attempt to moisten her mouth, but quickly gives up.

She'd dreamed with Little Wolf. Her heart aches more and more with every memory of the encounter. It had felt so real, just like when she had been to the Moonstone, and no matter how hard she tries to convince herself it was just a dream, she can't fully believe it. Her only remaining kit of her eldest litter had stood before her with stars in her pelt to bring her the news of her death. And she continues to lay here, helpless as disease eats away at her, while her remaining children struggle to survive against all odds. She hates it. She hates all of it.

Her son's voice alerts her to his presence as she feels his paw press against her shoulder. She's getting worse, he tells her, and it's no shock to her. She feels worse. "I'm going to keep on like this until I lose a life, Berry." Her voice is soft - no, not soft. Weak, dying. She calls him by the name he bore as a kit at her belly; her mind is not as clear as it once was, not with Yellowcough fogging it. But she knows enough. She knows the tom can end this, get her back to leading her clan like she should be doing.

She rasps another breath, grating against her throat. Rheumy eyes find him, somber and dark. "There are some things worse than death," She tells him before she must lie her head down again, overtaken by exhaustion. Her eyes fall shut for a few heartbeats as she catches her breath, but they soon flutter open again to look at him, her gaze saying more than what her words do.​

 

[BERRYHEART]

Before, he had seen her die. That sight was not foreign to him. But it was a flashing strike, unfixable- this was different. He had seen her die, yes, but he had never seen her dying. Not without a way to fix it.

When she had bled from her stomach from the claws of a traitor, he had saved her. When she had laid shredded in front of her Clan as they struggled to take the territory that was logically theirs, he had assured a disquieted ThunderClan that she would return. Now, he could not save her, and he could not utter any reassurance. Her waning voice told him she would lose a life, that the moment was fast approaching.

Weakness, with an invisible paw, pushed her head down as she uttered what could almost be a prophecy. There are some things worse than death. And Berry, she had called him- a name he bore embellished, now. It was suffering- she meant suffering was worse than death. His uneven gaze shifted- he lowered his head to meet the ghastly look in his mother's eyes.

"What are you asking of me?" He knew it. He knew it really, but he could not believe it- there was something defiant deep within Berryheart's gaze. She of all cats would be able to notice the twinge of horror on his features, the sickly green flame of predestined grief in his eyes. To interfere, like that... the consequences would be dire. In what eyes would he have murdered her? He would be no better than the Executioner, killing for a cause, even if hers was one conjured by a madness-addled mind.

"I can't kill my leader. I can't-" he cleared his throat, a violently sudden sound adjacent to a growl, and he tempered what was riling within him. Always, he had been good at staying calm. After a deep breath, his voice was quiet again. "I can't hurt you." And maybe it would not be hurting- not really- but how could he know what damage it would do?​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​

 

[HOWLINGSTAR]

She isn't surprised when he gives her his answer. Her eyes fall shut as she draws in another breath, and another, rasping and long-drawn. She can't imagine what it must feel like to be asked this, a son being tasked with killing his own mother, his leader. But the longer she remains in this nest with a muddled brain and limbs too weak to stand on, the longer her clan goes without a leader. She is positive Flycatcher is handling things well. He has Raccoonstripe and Wolfwind and Sunfreckle to look to, as well. But a leader's place is not here.

"Those berries - the ones Cinderfrost warned us about," She whispers, opening her eyes again to look at her son. "They would do it quickly." But she can already see the fire of rebellion in his eyes. He has made his decision and if she knows him, he won't stray from it. He's a good son. Gentle and caring, unwilling to harm another even when begged. A good cat, a good son. Her eyes fall shut again, her breathing uneven.​

 

[BERRYHEART]

The sound of her breath scraping against her throat, tainted by illness, plucked at even the hardiest strings of his heart. Despite the several lives that still thrived in her soul, to see her slipping away hurt, and he did not doubt that it was tenfold painful for her. And here he was, refusing her wish. Those berries. The blood-red sustained a stain in his memory, foam blooming at maws and a grave warning of limbs growing still.

Something that could do that... he could not be fearless in the face of it. He could not be sure.

The tortoiseshell's monotonous voice took a soothing quality- his pawpad stayed softly placed on her shoulder, an attempt to reassure her even though he would soon have to split from her side. "They would," he confirmed, the verdict softened with a sigh. "But I can't know what damage it would do."

A crooked jaw snapped to silence. It was painful to continue- and she knew, didn't she? When their eyes had met, dying green and living green, cured and withering- he had seen that glimmer of wisdom in her eyes. No one knew him better than her. For as long as he would be permitted to stay here, though, he would sit at her side. Lowering his head, he pressed his snow-splashed muzzle against her shoulder, listening to her breath. Father- fix her soon, he prayed, hoping Gray Wolf would reach to his mate and mend what Berryheart couldn't, with no poison to interfere.​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​

 

[HOWLINGSTAR]

She nods weakly, and though she is disappointed in his answer she understands. He has given his answer. He will not harm his mother, nor will he do anything to potentially worsen the situation. "You're a good son," She murmurs, eyes fluttering shut again as her cheek rests against the edge of the nest. She wants to make sure he knows that. Even if he cannot do what she is asking of him, she must tell him. Because his decision is not out of insubordination or stubbornness. It is out of care, for his paws are fated to prevent death, not summon it.

With a shuddering exhale, her breaths grow deeper. She is asleep, dreaming yet another dream in StarClan, with her son watching over her at her side.​